


Who the hell is Peter Parker?

by arabellagaleotti



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, After infinity war, Confused Steve Rogers, Gen, Hurt Tony, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, POV Steve Rogers, Pepperony - Freeform, Peter - Freeform, Peter Parker Dies, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter's dead, Precious Peter Parker, Smol bean Peter Parker, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Thor and Rocket, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellagaleotti/pseuds/arabellagaleotti
Summary: After Infinity War, Steve calls Pepper. She tells him that Tony was working on new and improved gear for them. Steve, Natasha, Rocket and Thor set out to Stark Tower. Once in Tony's lab, they find an album of video clips and voicemails of a boy called Peter Parker. Tony gets back from Titan, and somehow, they all become a team again.One-shot, kinda angsty, kinda fluffy.





	Who the hell is Peter Parker?

The phone rings three times before she picks it up. “Hello?” She sounds tired, distraught, worried. She should be. She’s definitely got a lot to stress over.

“Hey, Pepper.” He can practically hear her freeze.

“Steve?” she already knows it’s him.

“Yeah.”

“Tony?” The question is fruitless, and she knows it. The only way Tony wouldn’t be calling her is if he’s dead, that or too injured to speak.

“Not with us.”

She sucks in a shuddering breath, and the bite of a sob echoes down the phone speaker.

When she next speaks she has gathered herself, or at least for the moment. “Go to the Avengers Tower in New York. He was working on stuff for you guys.”

“Stuff?”

“Equipment, weapons, your shield, like that.” she clarifies.

“Okay. we’ll see you there.” Steve clears his throat. It’s awkward, talking to Pepper. It's been a long time.

“No! Um, no, I’ll be in Miami.”

“Oh, okay then.”

“I’ll get the bots to let you in.” there's a heaviness in her voice, a lump in her throat.

“Okay.” The line disconnects, but not before the start of a shuddering sob pierces across the line.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The place is creepy without any workers around, destered like this. It’s a ghost town, in more ways than one.

“It’s been so long,” Natasha mirrors, her hand hovering by her side, where a gun is tucked into a holster.

We pile onto the private elevator - the one that takes you to the upper floors where the living and training spaces are.

“Hello Peter, you’re earl-” the pre-programmed voice of FRIDAY cuts off. “Hello, Steve Rodgers, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, and (1) unidentified alien object. Ms. Potts has disabled protocol 218: Team Cap to allow you access.”

“Who the hell is Peter?” Rocket asks, rapping his knuckles against the metal wall of the elevator.

“I do not know, rabbit.”

“Will you stop calling me a rabbit!” Rocket complains.

“Do you even know what a rabbit is?” Natasha asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Well..no,” Rocket admits, “But I don’t like it!”

 

Steve just sighs, feeling emotionally and mentally drained. This place is sapping the strength from his bones. Rocket and Thor are still bickering behind him, arguing about whether Rocket knows what a Raccoon is. He doesn’t.

 

They arrive with a ding into the private floors. A pang of deja vu runs though Steve.

It looks mostly the same. White walls. Grey carpet. A few pieces of abstract art - no doubt picked out by Pepper - hung on the walls. Security keypads and access boards all lined up next to the elevator doors like toy soldiers. Steve eyes them, seems Tony’s put more protection in place since they last visited.

Makes sense.

The group wander through to the kitchen, all stainless steel and stone granite benchtops. It looks mostly the same, tasteful yet impersonal. That was how Tony liked things to be, distant but still beautiful, looking like they belong in a showroom.

 

Except now things are different, there's a touch of life inside. Not much, not a major redecoration, just a stray pencil case on the benchtop with a few colorful pens spilling out, a few scattered lego pieces, laying next to the lego is a half-constructed... Millennium Falcon? Natasha notices immediately as well, eyeing a report card from where it's stuck to the fridge.

“Did Stark get a kid or something?”

“I have no idea,” Steve mutters, pulling open a cupboard door. Inside the usually empty cupboards - Tony preferred late night takeaway than home-cooked meals - is an array of cereal, apples and muesli bars. On the cereal packet was a handwritten note, scrawled in Tony’s familiar writing.

 

Stop eating an insane amount of cereal. Honestly kid, it’s unhealthy.

 

Under that was a another message, this time in different handwriting and color pen.

 

You’re talking about being unhealthy?? Hypocritical much…

 

And then, squeezed into the remaining space at the bottom of the post-it note is Tony again.

 

You may have a point. But still, I’m wasting my fortune on Fruit Loops, and I’d rather go out with a bang than sink into bankruptcy, so...

 

The ink was fresher, and Steve has a feeling that it was written only a few days ago, just before Tony went missing in space.

 

“Come on. Let’s go.” Steve ushers everyone out the door. He has a sudden feeling of trespassing. This is not his home, his life anymore, and it feels wrong to step inside again. Thor and Rocket are still chattering, and Natasha is quiet. Maybe she’s feeling the same way?

They walk in silence towards Tony’s workshop. Thor and Rocket have finally fallen quiet, although Steve suspects they're only biding their time.

 

The group troops down the stairs, greeted with the familiar glass window and the dark lab behind it. They approach the door, unsure what to do. A camera whirs, and after a moment the voice of FRIDAY echoes throughout the enclosed space.

“Ms. Potts has overridden protocol 218, Team Cap, to allow you access to Mr. Stark's workshop.” The door swings open, all the lights flicking on. It’s painfully similar, empty coffee cups and loose pieces of paper with Tony’s cramped handwriting in scrawled notes. Steve strolls along the aisles, letting the memories flow over him. Natasha inspects a half-assembled engine, seemingly unaffected. Thor and Rocket wander up to the control panel, poking at the moving screens that spun into the air as soon as they entered the workshop.

“Album ‘Peter ’is playing.” FRIDAYS smooth voice interrupts the near-silence. Steve whips around, Natasha with her gun ready and aimed.

 

“Hey Mr. Stark!” The excitable voice continues, “So today I stopped this mugging so the lady gave me a stick of gum and five bucks, so that was nice. I brought a hotdog with the money and the dude at the stand wanted a picture, he was all like: ‘ay, bro! You’re that spider dude!’ and I was like: ‘yeah man, just want a hotdog’ and he was like: ‘sure man but can I take a picture!’ and I was like ‘of course bro’.” It seems to be a voice mail of some sort.

Steve steps up to the design and control panel as the next recording clicks on. This time it’s a hologram of a video. It projects into the air, sound blaring through hidden speakers.

Natasha joins him at the raised platform, “who is this kid?” she murmurs, eyes locked on the floating screens.

“I have no idea,” Steve sounds out. Rocket flops into a rolling chair, eying the technology around him.

“How much you reckon I could get for this stuff?” he asks, the next video turning on.

Steve and Natasha simultaneously shush him, he whispers a quick: ‘geeze’

 

The camera shakes and fumbles as it’s turned on, but it's eventually righted, focusing on the young face of the unknown boy. He gives the camera a smile, music playing in the background.

Tony and Pepper are dancing behind him, looking ridiculously happy. The kid joins them, dancing very badly, although exuberantly. Pepper laughs at his efforts and so does Tony. Pepper takes the teenagers hand, guiding him though a set of quick ballroom dance moves.

The song ends, switching onto ‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna. The kid whoops. “This is my song!”

“I’m embarrassed for you,” Tony tells him, although a wide grin stretches his face. It’s bigger and harder than Steve’s seen Tony smile in a long time.

“Come on, Mr. Stark!” The boy pulls him unto the designated patch of carpet for the dance floor and laughs when Tony starts doing the cha-cha. Pepper sets down her wine glass and joins them.

 

A billionaire superhero is doing the cha-cha with the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and a teenage boy. To Umbrella. By Rihanna. Steve’s not gonna forget this.

 

The clip ends when the kid reaches forward, turning off the camera with a wide grin on his face.

 

The next one is in the training gym at the compound upstate. The same kid is in exercise gear with slim bracelets on his wrists.

“Okay,” the voice of Tony Stark annonces, “this video is for documentation and study only, so no showing off.”

The kid rolls his eyes, “Fiiine” he drags out the word.

“Okay. Ready?”

“Yep.”

“Go.” The kid shot a string of...web?! Across the gym, pulling himself through the air and flipping onto a rafter.

“See how far I went!” he yells , voice echoing in the austotic gym.

“Yeah! Swing back!” The kid does as instructed, flying across the gym and landing lightly on his feet.

 

“Kid’s got some moves,” Natasha mutters.

“No kidding.” Steve replys, watching the screen.

“Is he...Spider-man?” Natasha asks. “Right build, height, he did sound pretty young in Germany-” Steve winces at the mention, “- and to he’s using webs.”

“He’s only like 16!”

“When I was 16 - in Misgardian years of course - out of all of Asgard, I won a beer drinking contest,” Thor brags proudly.

The video continues, the kid...Peter? Is now lifting a car above his head. With one hand.

“Blah blah he’s sixteen. He still beat your asses down in Germany, I hear,” Rocket adds, spinning around in his chair.

“That’s different. We weren’t trying to seriously hurt him.”

“Steve, you threw a airport ramp on him.” Nat reminds reproachfully

“When Quill was 16 he was a full-fledged member of the Ravagers. Compared to that this is nothing.”

“The Ravagers? Steve gets distracted.

“One of the biggest looters, smugglers, stealers and criminal syndicates in the universe. Each faction is lead by a different leader, and there are nearly 100 factions spread interstellar. There's a strict code of conduct that stretches over every faction, and while mainly operating independently, the common thing that unites every clan is that code. Apon breaking the code, the captain and every other crew member is exiled. The only way they can be forgiven is if you perform a noble or valiant act in the eyes of the code. Another aspect of Ravager culture is religion, as they seem to have formed their own. Upon death Ravagers are disintegrated and sent into space while ships of other clans shoot Colors. Phrases include, “hear the horns of freedom” and ‘see you in the stars”. Exile also includes exclusion from a Ravager funeral and afterlife, unless redemption was achieved, as such in the case of Yondu.” Rocket recites, leaning back in his chair and spinning a pen around in his hands.

“Huh. You seem to know a lot about criminal activities for a good guy,” Steve raised an eyebrow.

Natasha snorts next to him, “you do know what I was doing before I was converted, right?”

Steve glances over at her. “That’s different.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, Mr. War Criminal.” Rocket cuts in, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’ll have you know-”

“Shut up, Captain of America, it is Spider-boys birthday.” Thor says, munching on popcorn he’s procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, where’d you get the popcorn?” the former-spy inquires.

Thor points, “ The magical oven of micro waves.”

The tune of Happy Birthday comes out of the speakers, the video shakily filmed on a phone.

“Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday Dear Peeettteeerrr! Happy Birthday to You!” The boy, Peter, is sat at a kitchen counter, shabby apartment behind him. A filipino boy is sat next to him, singing with all his might. A dark-haired girl is on his other side, rolling her eyes but still grinning.

An older woman leans into the frame, giving the teenager a kiss to the cheek. Peter wipes his cheek jokily but still laughs. The birthday candles on the cake in front of him flicker with all the movement.

“Hip hip hooray!!”

“Make a wish, Peter!”

He grins, closing his eyes briefly, then leaning forward, blowing out the candles. Everyone whoops and claps. The woman starts cutting into the cake. The camera holder makes their way around, bringing in the birthday boy for a one-armed hug.

“Happy birthday, Peter.” Steve realized with a shock that it’s Tony filming. It doesn’t seem like a thing he’d do, but there he is.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark!” The kid says exuberantly, practically bouncing up and down on his seat.

Tony laughs, “what’cha wish for, kid?”

“I can’t tell you! Then it doesn’t come true!” 

Tony chuckles gruffly, one hand coming out to ruffle the kid’s hair, “we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No,” Peter shakes his head, then he turns, distracted by something - maybe cake, and the video turns off.

 

Suddenly Steve feels like he’s intruding on something again, the same feeling as before in the kitchen. This something personal and close to Tony. He can’t mess with that. Stepping forward, he turns off the queuing video.

“Hey!” Natasha protests, holding buttery popcorn of her own, “whatcha doing?”

“It’s not our business.”

“Technically if Stark’s sending out underage kids to fight superheroes then it is your business. You know, in the name of justice and all that.” Rocket says, holding some popcorn he’s stolen from Thor - because he certainly hasn't stolen it from Natasha - in one of his monkey-like hands.

A voice interupts the budding argument. “What the hell are you doing in here?!” Steve looks up jerkily.

 

It’s Tony.

 

Tony.

 

He’s leaning on the door, face pale and a blood-flecked scrape along his cheek. His wild eyes are flicking from each person to the next.

“What are you doing?” he repeats raspily when no-one answers.

“We...ah..Pepper said you had stuff you were working on.”

Tony raises his eyebrows is such a remisesnt way that Steve wants to cry. “I’m always working on stuff, Steve.”

“Stuff for us.” He clarifies, clearing his throat.

“Oh,” Tony crosses the room, He seems distracted, upset. He bends down to pull out a box from under the bench, but instead collapses into a chair - a turn of events not even he seems to have foreseen.

Steve is across the room in an instant, hands flying to Tony’s shoulders without thinking. The billionaire takes a long, deep trembling breath and seems to accept the contact. Natasha and the rest follow him, Rocket pushing himself along on the obnoxiously squeaking chair.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks carefully.

Tony lets out a half-laugh, half-sob, “I’m not fucking okay, I admit it. The great Tony Stark finally admits he’s not okay. Jesus, after all of the playboy years, the drinking, getting kidnapped by terrorists, the civil war, for god’s sake. Though ten years of PTSD, mild alcoholism and generally unsolved mental health issues - oh yeah, and let’s not forget having a shit childhood and a borderline abusive father. I finally fucking break.” Steve freezes. 

Peter. 

 

He’s talking about Peter. 

 

They snooped and Tony can’t know, not know he’s letting Steve touch him, not after all this time.

Almost perfectly timed, a blue figure knocks at the glass. Rocket scoffs, obviously recognising the character.

Tony doesn’t even bother to look up, “let her in, FRIDAY.”

“Will do, boss.”

The door clicks and opens. The mysterious...robot?! Walks in.

“Oh you,” she sneers, looking at Rocket. Her cruel face glints cerulean in the watery light from the windows. Rocket cranes his furry neck, looking past the robot. When no-one else appears he sits back in his chair again, although his eyes still drift to the entrance. 

“I thought you were dead.” Rocket spins around on his wheelie chair.

“I hoped you were dead,” she returns, sitting down on the worn couch.

“Yeah well, lucky you, I guess.” Rocket says roughly.

“Who are you?” Nat injects.

Robogirl looks up. “My name is Nebula.” Robogirl no more.

“I’m Steve Rodgers, and this is Natasha,” Steve points over at Natasha, who’s crunching on a handful of popcorn.

Nebula takes note but does not respond. 

“Is anyone else alive from the Guardians?” Rocket asks, a tinge of hope in his voice.

“The dipshit from Missouri, the idiotic shirtless guy and that antenne girl are gone.” Tony answers Rocket’s question. His eyes are hollow and his posture slumped.

“Quill, Drax and Mantis?” Rocket echoes, his harsh edge softening. “Everybody is gone? So it’s just me left?” Rocket sniffles, he wipes at his snout angrily. 

“Well yes, Rabbit. That is what it means,’ Thor breaks the mood.

“What’s a rabbit?” Nebula asks, large, black eyes fringed with dark lashes blinking.

“A terran creature. Very cute and fluffy, likes to hop around,” Thor supplies helpfully.

Rocket blinks and Nebula laughs, “Like the kanin on my home planet!”

“You’ve been calling me a kanin this whole time?!” Rocket demand angrily. Nebula cackles, understanding the joke.

Thor looks perplexed. “Well, what do these ‘kanin’ look like?”

“Little, cuddly." Rocket describes, "ears like this,” he makes bunny ears with his fingers, poking them out from behind his head.

Nebula only laughs harder, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye.

In the time it takes for Nebula to recover, Tony seems to have pulled himself together. He heaves the box out from under the bench, pulling out a new and improved shield, an updated version of Widow's bite, and a helmet for Thor.

“I don’t have anything specifically for you two-” he points at Rocket and Nebula, “- but I probably have something lying around.” 

“Helmets are my brother’s attire.” Thor says ruefully, a touch of sadness touching his voice. He looks down at the gold-silver helm cradled in his large hands. “I believe it is called ‘aesthetic’” he pronounces ‘Aesthetic’ like ‘A-sea-thee-tick’

Natasha cracks up laughing, “oh my god, Thor.”

“Did I say it wrong, Widow of Spiders?” that just make her laugh more.

Thor still looks clueless, so Tony throws him a life-raft. “It’s pronounced, ‘as-thet-tic’”

“Ah.” Thor nods. “I am sorry.”

Natasha just shakes her head, slipping on the bite. The electricity crackles around her wrists in boxers gloves of energy. “Woah,”

“Yeah. I got inspired.” Tony says, ruffling through boxes of military grade weapons. “Here,” he offers a plethora of knives and daggers - including ninja stars, that's definitely a bad idea - to Nebula and a fairly simple blaster to Rocket. “I’ll work on something better, but for now this should be fine.” Thor’s gaze sticks to Nebula’s daggers for far too long.

There's a strange sense of finality, seeing it come in full circle like this.

“Avengers, assemble.” Steve says ironically, taking a leaf from Tony’s book of humor.

Tony’s eyes are dead, but he still smiles, even if it’s lifeless, “avengers assemble.”

Thor laughs heartily. “Yes! Avengers assemble!” Rocket and Nebula exchange confused glances.

“Uhh, sure bud. Avengers assemble,” Rocket raises his eyebrows, nasally voice echoing throughout the space.

Nebula rolls her eyes, testing his hold on one of the gold-handled knives.

 

Tony’s face goes blank, “I’ve got to call Pepper!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! You know I just had to reference Tom's amazing performance to 'Umbrella'


End file.
